


Latin Night

by soul_writerr



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Cooking, Domestic Fluff, Flirting, Food, Humor, M/M, Ogling, Rafael cooks, Sappy, Sonny eats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:01:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26232331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soul_writerr/pseuds/soul_writerr
Summary: A few months back, Sonny had gotten Rafael a recipe book with the best of latin-american cuisine, and so trying out different dishes had become a Friday tradition of theirs. So far they’d tried from the Chile, Mexico, Argentina and Peru chapters, and Rafael was actively avoiding the Cuba chapter since he knew Cuban recipes better than he knew himself (his words).It's Friday and Rafael is trying out a new dish; things go really well.
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 48
Collections: Barisi Opposites Challenge





	Latin Night

**Author's Note:**

> As soon as I saw the prompt I was like LATIN FOOD! Then made it as self-indulgent as I possibly could lmao 
> 
> This is for the Archive's Barisi Opposites Challenge prompt 3: "Rafael is the best cook of the two". I hope you enjoy it!

As soon as Sonny opened the door to their apartment he was drawn in by all the amazing smells coming from the kitchen. He thought he smelled fish grilling, maybe some cumin, but he wasn’t the household chef so he wasn’t the most familiar with spices and such. 

He hung his jacket in the coat closet and dropped his briefcase on a nearby chair, then followed the scent. He found Rafael tending to a handful of pots at once, stirring and tasting, a tea towel thrown over his shoulder for easy access. 

Rafael was in his element, shirt sleeves rolled up and out of the way, still in his slacks, but with a dark green apron wrapped tightly around him. He had no problem with sticking his finger in this or that boiling pot to taste the food, but he drew the line at getting his clothes dirty.

“Honey, I’m home,” Sonny announced himself loudly, stepping into the kitchen with his arms wide open. 

Rafael turned to him with a smile, already looking awfully amused. “Just in time,” he said. “It’s Latin night.”

A few months back, Sonny had gotten Rafael a recipe book with the best of latin-american cuisine, and so trying out different dishes had become a Friday tradition of theirs. So far they’d tried from the Chile, Mexico, Argentina and Peru chapters, and Rafael was actively avoiding the Cuba chapter since he knew Cuban recipes better than he knew himself (his words). 

Generally Sonny would be home earlier to help Rafael set everything up, and he liked to read the text with a history background at the beginning of each chapter, which told them about the culture and the food from each country. Tonight, however, Sonny refrained from grabbing the book to read; Rafael was in his flow and Sonny would hate to break his stride.

“Is this Peru again?,” he asked, peeking at the pots but not recognizing anything. 

“Brazil, actually,” Rafael said, indicating the little flag on the bottom of the page. “You know I like variety.” 

“You’ve never steered me wrong,” he kissed his cheek. “I’ll set the table.”

“I think you’re forgetting something,” Rafael teased, then turned to show him his apron. Sonny had bought it for him as a joke, but Rafael took it very seriously. “Kiss the cook.” 

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Sonny grinned, then ducked down to take Rafael’s mouth in a hungry kiss. 

The pressure cooker started hissing, and he knew Rafael would have to tend to it quickly, so he swiped his tongue inside his husband’s mouth one more time before stepping back with a toothy smile. 

“Thanks for dinner, baby,” he whispered. 

Sonny tapped Rafael on the butt and winked at him as he exited the kitchen. He went quickly into their bedroom to change into more comfortable clothes then came back to set the table the way he liked it - the two of them sitting side by side instead of across from each other.

He thought of opening some wine, but he wasn’t sure what drink would harmonize with whatever Rafael was cooking, so he put the glasses back on their bar cart and went into the kitchen to ask his husband what they’d drink.

Sonny stopped by the entrance, taking in the sight of Rafael moving around the kitchen like he was following the steps of some choreographed dance. He’d open and close cabinets in a flow, pushed drawers shut with a bump of his hips, all the while he kept stirring a pot or two. A dash of olive oil somehow made it into the pan despite the distance, coating perfectly golden potatoes.

Rafael carefully released the air from the pressure cooker and opened it, filling the kitchen with a scent Sonny definitely did not recognize, but that made his mouth water anyway. 

He leaned against the wall, watching with rapid attention as Rafael lifted the clearly heavy cooker off the stove and onto the counter, his biceps bunching up under his shirt in that way that made Sonny’s legs go weak. Rafael grabbed a ladle next, spooning what looked like very dark oatmeal out and into their plates.

Rafael caught Sonny’s eye then, lifting an eyebrow at his silent watching. “What?”

“You look so good,” Sonny said, pushing off the wall and walking towards him. “You’re completely in your element here, it’s very attractive. I have half a mind to buy you a white apron and a chef’s hat.” 

Rafael smirked knowingly. “You trying to defile my kitchen?”

“You could say that,” Sonny gave him that lopsided smile deepened his dimple. “It’s hard to resist you.”

“You’re very cute,” he chuckled. 

“And you’re very hot,” Sonny replied, both hands on Rafael’s hips. He looked over his shoulders at their plates then, and tried not to pull a face. “What’s that?”

It looked like overly cooked oatmeal, brown and gooey. Not at all appetizing, but Sonny had faith in whatever Rafael was doing. In the 6 years they’d been together, Rafael had cooked most of their meals and there wasn’t one Sonny didn’t love. 

“ _Pirão de peixe com arroz e batatas assadas_ ,” he said in a quick flow of words that Sonny didn’t understand, then chuckled. “It’s a thick fish broth made with cassava flour, with a side of rice and baked potatoes.” 

Sonny hummed, mouth watering again. “Tell me again why you went into law and not culinary?,” he teased, pecking Rafael on the lips. “Does it go with wine?”

Rafael shook his head. “Beer.” 

Sonny beamed. “I see brazilians know what they’re doing.”

He grabbed two beer bottles from the fridge as Rafael finished serving them. He added a spoonful of rice for each of them with a side of a couple potatoes, then picked up both plates, walking out of the kitchen and into their dining room. Sonny followed him, setting the beers down and taking a seat. 

“This really does smell amazing,” Sonny said, picking up his cutlery as he considered how to eat such a liquidy mixture with a fork. 

“Thankfully, because let’s be honest, it does not look the best,” Rafael laughed softly. “But you’re supposed to mix it with the rice and that’ll give you a better texture.”

Sonny let Rafael do it first so he could imitate him, mashing some of the broth with the rice and loading his forking. It held well, and he took his bite with a small frown. As he chewed, Rafael’s face smoothed out and he hummed, surprised.

“It’s really good,” he said, then nodded towards Sonny’s plate. “Try it.” 

Mirroring Rafael’s actions, Sonny loaded his fork and took a bite. His eyebrows flew up to his hairline, and he refilled his fork with starved urgency. It tasted like fish purée, perfectly seasoned and spiced. The rice did help make it a more familiar texture, and for his next bite Sonny even added a piece of potato, and the olive oil took it to the next level.

Sonny sagged in his chair, a happy sigh escaping him while he chewed. Rafael watched him with a smirk, sipping his beer. He always said he cooked for Sonny more than for himself, always happy to feed him, and he took the most out of Sonny’s reactions. 

“This is amazing, Raf,” he said, already going for another bite. “It’s one of your best, I gotta say.” 

Rafael smiled, proud and satisfied. “I’m glad you liked it, because I definitely made too much.”

Thankfully he did, because both of them went for a second plate and a second beer. And maybe that second serving was their undoing, because once Sonny was full and pushed his empty plate away, he thought he was about to faint right there on the tabletop, his eyelids heavy and motions slow, grogginess taking over his body.

“Goddamnit, Raf,” he slurred. “What was in this? I feel like I need to sleep for a week after that. God.”

Rafael nodded, then winced at the movement. “Maybe I should have read the cultural backstory before I made it.”

“I’m sweating,” Sonny said with a long breath, head on his hand. “I can’t move from here.”

“Come on, let’s at least sit on the couch before either of us fall from our chairs,” he chuckled, pulling Sonny by the bicep.

“Raf,” he whined, legs like jelly as he stood up. “What the hell kinda food…”

Rafael laughed, helping Sonny sit down then sitting beside him, leaning against his arm.

“I think I’m gonna fall asleep,” Sonny heard himself mumble, wrapping an arm around Rafael and pulling him closer. “Thank God it’s Friday.” 

“Thank God,” he agreed, closing his eyes.

Sonny only had the time to pull Rafael into a lying position before the both of them fell asleep, Rafael with his head on Sonny’s chest. When they woke up two hours later, Rafael had managed to soak Sonny’s shirt with drool, and Sonny did the same to the couch. 

“Goddamn,” Sonny grunted, smacking his lips together. “I needed that.” 

Rafael hummed his agreement, running the back of his hand across his mouth as he sat up, hair wild. “I don’t think we’ve had a nap like that since thanksgiving.”

Sonny tilted his head, considering it. He stood up from the couch with a groan and went into the kitchen to grab the latin recipe book. Once he read what it said about the meal they’d had, he burst out laughing.

“What?,” Rafael called from the couch, lounging back into the cushions. 

“It says here that this dish is normally consumed on Sundays,” he read. “Because it’s so heavy, it might make you lethargic and drowsy.”

Rafael chuckled. “Check and check.” 

“Well,” Sonny snapped the book closed. “I enjoyed it.” 

“Me, too,” he sighed. “I could use a shower, though, I think I sweated through my shirt.”

“Is that an invitation?,” Sonny rounded the couch to offer Rafael a hand. “I can wash your back.” 

Rafael swayed as he stood up, and Sonny grabbed him by the hips to steady him. “You might have to hold me up.”

Sonny grinned. “Don’t have to ask me twice.” 

**Author's Note:**

> In my household, pirão is a sunday-only thing because it's really heavy and hot, to the point you might think you're coming down with a fever. It hits particularly hard if you're already tired, as seen here lmao 
> 
> And yes, pirão looks pretty gross (don't google it), it's very sticky and wet, but GOD it's so delicious I'm salivating as I write this. Let me know what you think of this! And also: would you try Raf's pirão???


End file.
